Priority Ultra
by terrified
Summary: A one-shot, prompt fill. Molly heads for a night out with Mary while Sherlock is left at home with his teenage daughter. An unusual crisis occurs, leaving Sherlock a little at a loss and the daughter realising how dramatic her father can really get.


**A/N: **_This was for a prompt I got on Tumblr:  
_

_**Sherlolly prompt: Molly is out of town for a girl's weekend with Mary and Sherlock is left to care for their pre-teen daughter by himself. Everything goes well until Sherlock and the Holmes daughter are faced with a bit of a dilemma: the preteen gets her first period - with only Sherlock to help her and explain to her what's happening!**_

_I found this prompt really, really tricky because this is definitely not a situation I would have thought up. So this is what I've managed to churn up and I hope you'll enjoy it. It's a humorous, light-hearted little parent!lock piece. :)_

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**Priority Ultra**

"Now, be good you two," Molly said, kissing her lovely fifteen year-old daughter on her forehead. She then turned to kiss her husband who had his nose buried in a book.  
"Got your figures on hand?" he asked, without lifting his eyes from what he was reading.  
"I've memorised my numbers for years, Sherlock," Molly replied, rolling her eyes. "Besides, I handle alcohol far better than you do anyway."  
"Are you saying Dad's gotten drunk before?" asked Stella, amused. "Do you think Uncle Greg's got a video of that?"

Sherlock finally lifted his gaze and narrowed his eyes at his giggling daughter. Molly laughed as she put on her coat, ready for her night out with Mary.

"Have a good time, Mum." Stella said, waving to her mum, "I'll keep Dad away from the kidneys…"  
"What kidneys?" Sherlock asked, looking up sharply.  
"Stella!" Molly exclaimed, her eyes widening at her daughter.  
"Oops, sorry mum," the girl replied, a sheepish look crossing her face.  
"Keep him out of trouble. Any emergencies, _call_ me." Molly said sternly but with a smile on her face.

With those words, Molly turned on her heels and left to meet Mary. Stella was still grinning from the image of her father being a drunken mess. Sherlock could sense this and glared at her once more before returning to his book. Sniggering to herself, Stella returned to her room to relax with a book as well.

The father and daughter duo were very similar in the way they spent their hours. Both were happy to sit comfortably in their own spaces doing their own things. Neither bothered the other unless something happened. Their comfortable silence was pierced when Sherlock heard a shriek come from the bathroom. It had not been a loud one, but Sherlock always kept his ear out for his daughter. He slammed his book shut and leapt out of his chair.

"Stella?" he asked, knocking on the bathroom door.  
"I'm fine, Daddy go away…" she replied.

She hardly called him _Daddy _anymore since she turned twelve and had decided she was going to use the more 'grown-up' version of address. Stella only ever said _Daddy_ when she was panicking or in a hurry.

"No, I am not going away. I can tell something's happened."  
"It's fine, Daddy…Dad…it's…" she said, almost muttering, "Could you..get my mobile phone please?"  
"Why?"  
"I need to call Mum."  
"Why do you need to call her? I'm right here…"  
"Dad! This is not the time to do this, _please_ could I have my mobile phone…"  
"Mum said to call her if there were any emergencies," he repeated to her, "Is there any emergency? Stella, what's wrong?"

He could hear her sigh to herself in the bathroom. There was no sound of anything else. No water running, no opening of cabinets, nothing.

"Stella…" he said, knocking once more, "What's g—"  
"I've got my…you know, _that_…Okay?" she said with another sigh, "You're a detective, I'm sure you can figure the subtext out."

His daughter was right. He automatically knew what she was referring to do. Her hesitance to tell him, her insistence on speaking to Molly only, and her refusal to come out of the bathroom. It all pointed to one thing and he felt at a little bit of a loss.

"Dad?" she said, when she realised he had gone silent.  
"Y-yes, sorry, I'll just…call your mother…"  
"Thanks, Dad."

As Stella waited in the bathroom for her father to save her via a call to her mother, she could hear him ranting outside to someone. Stella gingerly slid her knickers and her pyjama bottoms back on and crept to the door. Pressing her ears on her side of the bathroom door, she could hear her father, his voice raised and agitated, talking to her mother.

"You don't understand, Molly," Stella heard him say, "We _have to _lock her up in the house somehow. There is no way we can let her out again. Either that or we send her to boarding school. An all-girls' boarding school.

Stella's eyes widened in horror at her father's words. What on earth was he on about?

"What do you mean I'm overreacting?" Sherlock exclaimed into the phone, "Do you realise the severity of this?"

Behind the bathroom door, Stella frowned. Stella knew her father was dramatic but this was really taking it unnecessarily far. What was so grave about her getting her first period?

"I can list you the names, Molly. I have seen the way they look at her, the way they talk to her," he ranted on, "Bruce Faulkner, Liam Sheffield and that William bloke, the son of one of your lab techs…"

Stella's blinked in confusion. What did any of these classmates have anything to do with what was happening now?

"Harmless? Normal? Let me tell you what teenagers _really_ get up to…" he said with a huff. "Our daughter is now _fully_ reproductive, perfectly able to be _with child_ and you want to let her be around those…those buffoons?"

"Oh God…" Stella whispered to herself. She did not know whether to laugh or cry at her father's reaction.

"Fine…" he muttered, "Third drawer at your dressing table, got it."

Stella could hear her father's footsteps approach as he swung by his bedroom, only to emerge knocking at the bathroom door again.

"Your mother said to pass you these…" he mumbled, as Stella gingerly opened the door by a crack.  
"Thanks, Dad," she replied softly, taking the things from him and quickly shutting the door.

As Stella sorted herself out, carefully studying the instructions on the packet, she could hear her mother storming back into the flat as her parents resumed their argument, ranging from forcing Stella to wear a chastity belt of reinforced steel, to her mother forcing her father to sleep on the streets if he continued his overreaction.

When Stella finally emerged from her bathroom, Molly ran to her, giving her a tight hug and asked if she was all right. Stella nodded, smiling and said she had cleaned up any mess and was feeling generally okay.

"Where's Dad?" Stella asked, as she wandered out to the hall.  
"You mean the world's greatest overreacting father?" Molly replied sarcastically.  
"Um, y-es…" Stella replied, eyeing her mother carefully.  
"I've locked him out until he agrees not to lock _you_ up," Molly replied, gesturing for her daughter to sit beside her.

Stella laughed and snuggled against her mother. As the women chatted upstairs, the world's greatest consulting detective paced the streets of London with his mobile phone pressed to his ear.

"Mycroft." he said.  
"What now?" Mycroft asked on the other line.  
"I think you'll need to upgrade Stella's surveillance and security."  
"What?"  
"Priority Ultra, Mycroft," Sherlock insisted.  
"Care to explain, Sherlock?"  
"Just do it, Mycroft," Sherlock exclaimed, gritting his teeth as he disconnected.

When he returned to the flat, he found both mother and daughter asleep on their sofa. He smiled at the sight and heaved a huge sigh.

"Priority Ultra, definitely." he whispered.

**END**


End file.
